The Master's touch
In the still air the music lies unheard;
In the rough marble beauty hides unseen.
To make the music and the beauty
The Master’s touch, the Sculptor’s chisel keen.
Great Master, touch us with Thy skillful hands;
Let not the music that is in us
Great Sculptor, hew and polish us, nor let
Hidden and lost, Thy form within us lie.
Spare not the stroke; do with us what Thou
Let there be naught unfinished, broken, marred;
Complete Thy purpose that we may become
Thy perfect image—Thou our God and Lord.
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